Our new Indie Games subforum is now open for business in G&T. Go and check it out, you might land a code for a free game. If you're developing an indie game and want to post about it, follow these directions. If you don't, he'll break your legs! Hahaha! Seriously though.

Our rules have been updated and given their own forum. Go and look at them! They are nice, and there may be new ones that you didn't know about! Hooray for rules! Hooray for The System! Hooray for Conforming!

Clyde's frustration with these zombies is a bit more involved than simple power levels.

I'm actually mostly content with the banter this shithole has opened up between team phi, though I suppose it is about time to go and evade tyrannothing fix the pumps. My characters just get all over the place with their emotions.

Also @Shabooty you should totally spruce up our lovely property some while you wait out this death timer.

Well, when you left the only unpicked ones were Water and Light if I remember correctly. But we were already saturated with players, so I would probably have let you pick whatever instead of limiting you.

Well, when you left the only unpicked ones were Water and Light if I remember correctly. But we were already saturated with players, so I would probably have let you pick whatever instead of limiting you.

The door at the end of the hall opens with a tired squeak, revealing unto you a dusty, nondescript briefing room. It looks like it hasn’t been used in years. Until today, obviously. The concrete walls and ceiling are just as low and oppressive as they have been elsewhere in the facility, but at least the bunker is well-lit. At the opposite end of the long table that takes up most of the room stands a haggard-looking man in military uniform. You may recognize him from coordinating that whole fiasco with the giant army and cannon right outside the city walls.

“Acting Strategon Chris Neudrix,” he introduces himself. “Please, take a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

It’s been a pretty crummy four days. Not five minutes after the Strategon-thing breathed its last- it’s just a figure of speech, it probably didn’t even breathe- the lights started to come back on. Seven minutes, and the battlefield was swarming with rescue crews. Ten, and you were looking down on a squad of power armored troopers ordering you to step down and step out of your TITANs to be taken into “protective custody”.

Even if you had wanted to fight, the long battle left you too tired to resist- it felt like you had been fighting for months, and it was like some strange, supernatural outside force was compelling you to go along with it and not rock the boat.

And so you were ushered onto a transport and rushed to this bunker, where you’ve spent the last four days locked in your rooms, living off dried rations and water, and sleeping when tired. It felt like you were in prison, although that would obviously never happen to a fine group of heroes like yourselves.

Until today, when a knock came at your door, and you were escorted by stern-looking guards to the door at the end of the hall, which catches us up with the in media res introduction of this update.

"I would like to stand, thank you." Jane crosses her arms, taking care not to raise her arms too far up. Ugh, first thing she's doing when she gets outta here is getting some lilac scented soap.

"Something's rotten in the state of Denmark. Explanations are owed. Not even necessarily for us, for all of Nia-Gara. I'm hungry, I'm tired, I reek, and I'm feeling irritation with the government of my beloved city."

Daisuke leans back in his chair and attempts to style his hair with his fingers.

"So...I get that, sometimes, people can be given accolades that they don't deserve," he says. "Show business can be stupid like that. But this is twice in as many weeks where we've been treated like shit for saving lives. That's kind of weird, don't you think?"

The official head of the city’s military stands before you, slumps his shoulders, and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Hey, fuck off,” he grumbles. “I didn’t want this job and I take enough shit trying to clean up that mess out there, I don’t need to take it from you guys too.”

He pulls a thin manila folder from a bag on a chair behind him and tosses it onto the table, the papers within spilling out. Looks like words, mostly. A few maps.

“Since you asked,” he mutters. “It’s all we’ve got. Whatever the hell our former Strategon was, it was running one hell of a scheme. Half the TITAN Legion and all of the military’s top brass was in on it, and lucky for us, one of ‘em squealed. That story about how we’re the only people left? Bullshit. We’ve got neighbors, call their city the Scrapyard. Strategon had his cronies in the TITANs running raids on them for years, for tech, resources, hell, just to do damage. I don’t know why, but he ended up taking a risk with you, and you know how it goes from there.”

Chris folds his arms over his chest and his expression darkens. “Fucking Senate knew something was going on, but instead of doing something about it, they kept up some cover-up cloak and dagger bullshit, trying not to hurt ‘the people’s’ feelings.” He makes the appropriate finger quotes. “And from the looks of it, they’re gonna try to do it again.”

Chad Kowalski[AIM 1][FEL] / Eastwood [Q][FIE][TUF]The look in Chad's eyes softens as he removes his feet from the desk and leans in. "Yeah, you're right. Sure'n we've had a rough week, but it ain't right t'take it out on you."

He looks over the files as the acting Strategon talks. "So these neighbours are called Scrapyarders? We had any open communications with them since Ol' Stratty went away?"